


Lost

by AngelofDarkness1605



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 01:18:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7338721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelofDarkness1605/pseuds/AngelofDarkness1605
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years after he sent her away, Rumplestiltskin is painfully reminded of the mistake he made by throwing Belle both out of his castle and out of his life when he comes face to face with her once more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to Inkfire for the wonderful beta work.

There's no escaping either the pain or the woman who causes it. Maurice's little town has flourished since the Ogre war ended and the same goes for the lord's influence and power, his tourneys and balls gaining importance along with his guests.

Rumplestiltskin can never decide whether it's a blessing or a curse – one yet more dreadful than the one he already carries – that it has become simply impossible to fully avoid the only woman whom he can't endure to see.

It's a cruel trick of fate that the most essential of his pawns attends the very same events as _she_ does, time after time.

Instead of keeping an eye on one of his most important chess pieces, Rumplestiltskin's gaze is drawn to the beauty in the middle of the ballroom. Years have passed since Belle brought life and light to his castle and into his life, but she has never looked more exquisite.

Her eyes shine brighter than the jewels around her neck and fingers, her demure dress not quite preventing him from taking in her ever pale skin and gentle curves. No matter how much one of his darkest parts would like it to be otherwise, she's yet more radiant in her current condition.

For the Dark One it is torture indeed to look upon Belle. It would require but a small spell to appear right at her side, only a few actual steps to cross the distance between them, but she has never been further away from him.

He has heard the stories, of course he has. Although the sorcerer so strongly doesn't want to, he knows everything about his former caretaker... his rejected True Love. After a series of adventures, she returned to prosperous lands and countless suitors, who were more than willing to overlook her highly unusual and questionable reputation in exchange for her heritage, her well-known beauty nothing but an added advantage.

But to actually see her... it's hardly the first time, yet once again nothing could have prepared him for the sight of the love of his life dancing with another man, his ring on her finger... especially now that the other man's child is growing very visibly inside her womb.

Hidden in darkness, a hood and various spells further protecting his identity, Rumplestiltskin grinds his teeth and clenches his fingers. He is the most powerful being in all the realms and there is absolutely nothing he can do about the man who has taken the place that should be _his_ , not without driving his True Love even further away. He knows only too well what she thinks of his methods.

Knowing that there is no point in trying to persuade himself yet again that he doesn't care whom Belle has chosen, that he doesn't love her anyway, he opts to ignore her instead. The mere memory of her has haunted him for years already and it won't do at all for the Dark One to moon over a woman he can't have... a woman he _shouldn't_ have.

He pointedly looks at his new informant, making sure that the bribed man talks indeed to all the people Rumplestiltskin wants him to speak to, slowly but surely finding out the few secrets in the realms which otherwise would have escaped his awareness, spreading a variety of rumors of the Dark One's design while he's at it.

He's close now, so very close to the final steps. Just a few more years and everything shall be in place. The curse will be cast and he'll finally be able to leave this world. He can all but see Bae again. It would all be perfect, if only...

The wave of sadness is so strong that it almost overwhelms him, leaving him swaying on his feet and bringing tears to his eyes. Even if he were to find his boy in the world where the curse will take them, nothing will ever be truly well if he doesn't have Belle at his side.

Unable to bear staying at the edges of the cheerful crowd any longer, he turns around and all but flees the corner. He needs air and space, anything to make him forget about his True Love and her husband, anything to...

In his haste to escape, he runs into someone, harshly colliding with one of the guests of the ball.

A curse is on his lips, ready to painfully end the life of whoever got in his way. But when he looks up to cast it, he stands dead in his tracks, freezing as he recognizes the person in front of him.

It has been three years, six months and six days since he last was face to face with her, when he told her that he could never love her and sent her away from him. Three and a half years, and he isn't any closer to being able to forget about her... to stop loving her.

He has spent days – _weeks –_ doing nothing but think of what he should say to her if he ever found the courage to face her again. He has spent months – _years -_ wishing for a moment exactly like this. But now that he is actually eye to eye with his True Love once more, he has no idea whatsoever what he should say.

"Rumplestiltskin," she says, her tone seemingly void of any emotion.

"Belle," he breathes, broken and awed and desperate. " _Belle_."

"You shouldn't be here."

Her cold dismissal of his plea almost brings him to his knees, just like her disapproval of his presence.

"I..."

He looks at her, frantically searches her face. He has no idea what he's looking for, whether he hopes to find a sign that she isn't truly all but sending him away, just like that, or whether he merely wants to assure himself that she is as well as she looks, that there is nothing that's bothering or harming her.

"You what?"

Only then does he realize that he hasn't actually replied to her. Having been found speechless is one thing, but it's a whole lot worse yet to discover that he truly has no idea what to say, even when he does a very serious attempt at finding words which might describe some of the emotions currently running through him.

It's overwhelming and terrifying, just like her love has always been. However, he would be lying if he were to claim that he wishes it weren't so.

"I'm sorry."

He lowers his head, rueful and so very ashamed. Those two words are all he has to offer after everything he did to her and there's nothing he can do to change it.

There's nothing but silence in response, the noises of the crowd surrounding them immaterial in the background.

For so long he wished he could talk to her, to at least attempt to make things right between them. But even in his own head he couldn't think of a proper way to apologize for the injustice he has done her, for the cruelty he treated her with. Naturally, it is yet more impossible when he is drowning in the depths of her eyes once again.

"You should go," she says again, firm and controlled and not afraid at all, not acknowledging his apology. "That's the only reason I came to you. Whatever you are up to, my people or I don't want to have anything to do with it."

She's brave and strong and so very, very beautiful. _Of course_ she approached him on her own accord and _of course_ she did so only to protect also from his schemes and cruelty the people which are now hers.

She heads for one of the exits of the ballroom, gesturing him to follow her. He does so without thinking, let alone considering that a mere mortal is ordering the Dark One around – and that he lets her.

"It has to stop," she says, only briefly glancing back at him over her shoulder to address him. "I don't ever want to see you here again."

_Of course_ she is aware that this is hardly the first time that he has been here... pretending not to follow her with his eyes wherever she goes.

"I'm leaving," he mutters, because there's nothing more to say, lowering his head. "I won't bother you again. You... I won't come here again."

Useful as this rebuilt palace is—the political and military epicenter of this part of the realm—there's nothing for him but to stay away from it from now on. At least, that's what he tells himself.

He _will_ stay away in the future, simply because Belle has requested it of him. Years have passed, but there's nothing he can refuse her. There will never be.

"That's for the best," she says, for the first time not sounding as confident and regal as she gestures at the nearest door which leads to the outside.

He picks up on it immediately, his head snapping up to look her deeply in the eye, searching for anything which might reveal that she isn't given all that she deserves, that she lacks for whatever she might need.

"Are you happy?"

He gulps out the question before his mind has given him permission to do so. He can bear being separated from her, he might be able to endure not being able to love her, but he isn't capable of knowing that she is unhappy without doing anything about it.

They reach a quiet garden, the moon and stars bright in the sky overhead, and he forces himself not to linger on how very beautiful she looks.

The music and noises of the crowd from inside the palace are reduced to mere background noise, which only makes more obvious that she remains silent, not answering his question.

"Are you _happy_?" he grinds out, swirling around to block her path and face her directly, needing the answer almost as much as he needs her love.

"I..." She sighs deeply, but doesn't look away from him, and there's a jolt of sheer joy inside of him at the discovery that at least she isn't afraid to look upon him, even now. "I'm not unhappy."

His shoulders sag and his expression falls as she says the exact same words he did on that fateful night two and a half years ago. But unlike then and unlike him, her reply doesn't mean to express just how happy she actually is… quite the opposite.

"Does he hurt you?"

Rumplestiltskin is _growling._ How he dreads to think of Belle and _that man_ , who may not be as dimly lit and brutish as most other princes - he has made sure of that from the second the news of their engagement reached him – but who is still not nearly good enough for his Belle. No one is and no one ever will be.

"He doesn't," she says calmly, confirming what he already knew deep inside. The informant he has kept track of throughout the night is far from the only person who gathers information for him here. If there had been only the slightest rumor that Belle's husband treated her poorly, Rumplestiltskin would have known – and interfered.

"You don't love him," he responds, all but snarling. There is no point in this, there really isn't. If anything, it's grossly unfair to remind _her_ of love, whereas _he_ is the one who took it from the both of them. But he can't help himself now that he is finally seeing her again, now that he is reminded of what would have been had he not been so stubborn... so _foolish_.

"I don't love him," Belle simply replies, unflinching. "Not the way I love you. But he has become my best friend, and that's good enough for me, given the circumstances."

"The _best friend_ that you sleep with," he hisses, looking meaningfully, _accusingly_ , at her round belly and the child that's growing inside.

"Of course," Belle says, still maddeningly calm. "We need heirs to ensure a peaceful future. Besides, I've always wanted children."

"You do?" Rumplestiltskin breathes, his anger vanishing in a heartbeat. "I... I didn't know that."

"There are a lot of things we don't know about one another," she says pointedly. It reminds him painfully of just how right she is. He has never told her about Baelfire; it's yet another one of his failures.

"Indeed," he replies, shame rising quickly within him, both for what he has done to her in the past and the injustice he is causing her now.

"It was an arranged marriage," she says quietly, "but I chose him myself. He is a good man. I once told you that I wanted to be a hero and that I wanted to see the world. I wanted to be a mother, too, but I never liked to tell others, especially not my father. In those days I was afraid it would make him only more eager to marry me to some man I barely knew to 'take care of me'. I didn't want to marry for anything but love."

She regards him quietly, with more dignity than he has seen in any king or queen. Rumplestiltskin listens quietly, marveling at her strength and beauty.

"I became a hero when I saved my village by going with you. I saw the world when I left your castle. Now, I'm going to be a mother. My husband is a duke with fertile lands and a content people. He respects me and gives me more freedom than most other men would. I've achieved almost everything that I wanted in life."

Hearing Belle talk like this is quickly becoming thoroughly confusing. How proud he is of everything she has accomplished... and how utterly sad that there's no more place for him in her life. That there might have been, if only he hadn't been such a fool.

"I can visit my father regularly. My husband treats me very well. I love our child, and the ones that might follow."

Her expression softens ever so lightly and there's a flash of the sheltered, slightly naive young woman he once knew. It dawns on him that Belle wears a mask of her own now, more effective and convincing than any magically fueled disguise.

"You could have had this, you know," she says, her voice softer and more tender than before. She settles both her hands on her stomach, caressing the child inside as she looks him straight in the eye. "You could have had me."

"I know," he responds, almost whimpering, for this hurts so much more than throwing her out of his castle, out of his life.

"You made your choice, Rumplestiltskin."

"I know."

"I don't need to remind you that you didn't choose me."

"I _know_."

He lowers his head again, utterly defeated. She couldn't be more right and he knows it as well as she does. He ruined their relationship, the fragile and so very beautiful love between them, and there's nothing he can do to make up for his cruelty and suspicion, his refusal to give up his power.

But it can't end like this, it just _can't_. He'll do everything, _anything_ , just to talk to her, properly, to have her smile at him one last time.

"I'm so, _so_ sorry, Belle. I've been a fool. I was wrong. I was afraid... a _coward_. I should have chosen you. I _would_ have chosen you, but my powers... I do need them. My son, my Baelfire... in another world, he might still be alive. I need my powers to try to find my way back to him."

She's taking this newly revealed information in with wide eyes. He likes to think that it'll make a difference, that she'll at least understand now why he acted the way he did when he ruined their love.

But there's no sign of it, not even in his biased eyes. Either way, it's too little, too late, and they both know it.

"I wish we had been together," he says, managing to look her in the eye as he tells her so. It may not be much, not after everything that has happened – everything that has _not_ happened between them. Besides, it's terrifying to share this with her, especially because the words contain none of his usual twists and tricks. His desire of a life with her is the plain, merciless truth.

"So do I," she says softly. "And we could have been. But it's too late for that now."

He nods, acknowledging her words. Much as it pains him, he knows that she's right. He has made a choice, and so has she. She is a wife, a duchess, a soon-to-be mother. Asking her to abandon that life would be like asking her to abandon herself.

Tempting as it is to offer to take her to the Dark Castle, to ask her to go _home_ and raise her husband's child as his own, he won't make the mistake of doing so.

"Will you call for me when you need anything?" he asks instead, hoping that she'll at least grant him this favor – for a favor it would be to him indeed if she were to request his assistance, to ask him back into her life. "I'd do anything for you. You know that, don't you? Whatever the price, I'll pay it for you."

He would give her the world if she wanted to, would give her power and riches unimaginable if she were to utter a single word. He trusts her more than even himself with his almost endless power.

"You know I won't do that."

The remaining parts of his heart break into yet more pieces. She isn't refusing his offer because he is the one who made it, but because she is truly convinced that she won't need his help to ensure her safety and happiness.

"I see," he says stiffly, never more eager to flee and _hide_ from this woman who yields such power over him... and never more eager to stay with her for the rest of time..

"It would be wrong, wouldn't it?" she asks, solemnly matter-of-fact. The feet between them might as well be miles. "If I were to call upon you only if I needed whatever your powers could give me. It would be unfair to both of us."

"There's nothing 'unfair' about seeing you again," Rumplestiltskin replies, shrugging with tense shoulders.

"It wouldn't be right if I only were to call on you because of your magic."

"I could always... just visit," he offers, all but feeling the proverbial ice break underneath his careful feet before he has finished speaking. But he can't _not_ talk now that she isn't either shunning or threatening him. "To see you again. You alone, or in the company of your husband, or your knights, if you prefer?"

He doesn't actually add _please_ , but he doesn't need to. At this point, he is all but begging her for only the smallest sign of affection and he's as aware of it as she doubtlessly is.

She is quiet for a moment, considering his words, and his heart leaps with hope upon finding that she at least doesn't dismiss the possibility of his meeting her again straight away.

But then she shakes her head and it is like he's being burned and frozen at the same time.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"I see," he mutters, utterly defeated. "You... you don't want me."

"It's not that and you know it."

"Do explain, dearie," he mutters, the menace in his voice not quite what it usually is and his tone characterized by actual wonder.

"What would be the _point_?" she cries out, her so carefully maintained control slipping further. She advances upon him, finger jabbing in his direction with each word and fire in her eyes, and he has rarely seen anything so impressive in his long, long life. "I can't leave my life behind and you can't leave behind yours, you made that very clear. What can either of us possibly gain by pretending that it's any other way?"

Words always come so easily to him, but now that it actually _matters_ , Rumplestiltskin finds that he doesn't know what to say. Of course, he can't be her duke just like she can't be his queen; Belle can't be Bae's mother like he can't be her infant's father.

For how can he possibly understand, let alone express, how just a few more peaceful hours with her would be worth more than anything he ever dealt for, more than any gold he could ever spin?

It doesn't matter, if only because he doesn't get the chance to use any of the words he might have come up with had he had more time to gather them.

There's a sudden movement in the previously still bushes surrounding them. Rumplestiltskin notices much later than he would have liked, but he places himself just in time between Belle and whatever is approaching them, before the danger is revealed regardless.

The undergrowth in front of them parts barely a moment later, exposing the very man whom the Dark One has been staring daggers at less than an hour ago, yielding a sword.

"Belle! I'm glad to have found you."

Baring his teeth, Rumplestiltskin doesn't move in the slightest, barely conscious of how protective, how _possessive_ his stance is… how natural it feels to stand right between Belle and her husband.

He expects the undeserving man to step away from him in shock, to at least recoil in disgust at the sight of him. More than that, the Dark One _hopes_ that the other man will try to use that useless sword of his. After all, nothing lasts forever when one is mortal.

It's not that he'll actually harm the other man. Well, not gravely. Of course not. And although there may not be any man who is deserving of Belle – Rumplestiltskin wouldn't place himself in that category either – she just herself confirmed that her husband is indeed good to her, that he is better than most.

But that doesn't make it any easier, any more bearable, when yet another young, good-looking man advances on him with a sword in his hand, intent on driving him away from Belle. This man too will not succeed, obviously, but it's yet another reminder that his True Love is not to be.

Already contemplating what he might do to the other man without truly harming him, it takes Rumplestiltskin a few long seconds to realize that Belle's husband isn't actually waving his sword at him, shouting threats.

Instead, the young duke looks from the Dark One to his wife, and back again, sheathing his sword.

A part of Rumplestiltskin is almost hoping that the other man will belatedly realize that this looks very bad indeed, that the duke will leap to defend his wife's honor. _Anything_ to give the Dark One an excuse to take his frustration out on anyone, preferably the man who's standing between him and Belle in every sense of the word.

But instead of doing anything of the kind, instead of even recoiling from the much-feared deal-maker in fear or at least disgust, the young duke heads straight towards them. His sword is still sheathed and he makes no move to reach for it – instead, he _smiles._

The other man bows before him as if the Dark One were a respected nobleman rather than a cursed sorcerer.

"It's an honor to meet you, Rumplestiltskin."

The Dark One is too bewildered to react, let alone shake the hand that the duke offers him a moment later.

"Jonathan of the Marchlands, at your service."

Rumplestiltskin can only stare at the other man, not understanding at all why he is so gallant, why he treats him with more politeness than even the peasants who are desperate for his magic.

"Belle has told me a lot about you, my lord. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

He wishes to snarl, to lash out at the handsome nobleman, to remind him that no-one enjoys meeting him, that no-one _likes_ him, and that people should know better than to think they can get away with lying to him.

But as much as he'd like it to be otherwise, there's nothing insincere about the duke. There's also no denying the flutter of pride, of hope deep inside of him at the discovery that Belle must have spoken very highly of him to her husband... that she apparently talked about him at all.

He can't even bring himself to be annoyed to be addressed as a 'lord'. Both of them know he isn't one – but rather than mockery or ignorance, he feels that the duke uses the incorrect title out of respect.

"I'd like to take this chance to thank you for what you have done for Belle, my lord. For being good to her."

Rumplestiltskin huffs at that, almost reminding the nobleman that they wouldn't be standing here right now if he hadn't thrown Belle out so cruelly.

But the other man looks at him meaningfully and the Dark One falters, realizing what the duke means. He has certainly yelled at her, shaken her in anger and disappointment in that incident he still regrets so very much, but other than that he made sure to treat her properly, even in those early weeks when she was just a servant to him, rather than his True Love.

That is not all that the duke is referring to, though. There is more to the gratitude in his expression as he holds the Dark One's gaze for a few seconds longer than seemingly necessary. Her husband must also know, then, of the wonderful times that Belle and he spent together, just talking and drinking their tea, or he at his wheel and she with a book in her hand, her voice as she read out loud almost as soothing as the spun gold between his fingers.

"Shall I tell our guests that you have retired for the night?" the duke asks, breaking the lengthening silence to address his wife.

"Yes, thank you," she replies, but only after a moment, as if she were as lost in the past as Rumplestiltskin was himself. "I'll see you whenever your business is conducted."

Rumplestiltskin may have tried to persuade himself that there was nothing left of his heart, but that shriveled organ is most definitely aching at yet another reminder that his True Love spends her night in the bed of another man.

"Until then, Belle."

There's a glance between husband and wife, sharing understanding of a kind that Belle and he never had and probably never will have, right before the man leaves his wife alone in the darkness with the supposed monster.

The duke bows to his wife and then repeats the gesture to Rumplestiltskin, bestowing him with the same honorific greeting. This time, the Dark One mirrors the display of respect, in his own way thanking his True Love's husband.

Between the two of them, Belle has chosen the better man.

They watch the other man disappear down the path leading to the castle, making his way back to the ball. When her husband is out of sight, Belle returns her gaze to him, looking at him with a calmness that any a queen would envy.

It dawns on him that it might be the last time he sees her like this, and probably the last time he sees her at all, if only because there's no way he can face her again after this.

She has a new life now, a life without him, a _good_ life. Neither of them, especially not her, has anything to gain from reminding one another of what could have been in such a way. Seeing her stand tall and strong in the moonlight as she watches him patiently, he agrees with her now that it would be for the best for them never to see one another again after this night, no matter how difficult this might be.

"Can I apologize for what I did to you?" he asks, sensing that if there's one thing he can do for her now, it's to excuse himself for the way he treated her in the hours before their lives separated.

"Yes," she simply says, still looking at him with those impossibly blue eyes, which are somehow yet more inquisitive than they used to be.

"I'm sorry for what I did to you," he says, those few words seeming so very meaningless compared to what he has caused by not believing in her, in _them_ —but it's the only thing he can give her now.

He's trying and failing to think of something else to say, to find words which might describe just how much he regrets letting his anger and fear get the best of him that day, to express how very sorry he is for having hurt her.

"I wouldn't have thrown you out if I could have believed for only a little that you didn't want to take my powers from me. That doesn't change anything, that doesn't excuse what I did... I know that."

It's so very little to offer her as an explanation, but it's the only thing he has.

"I wouldn't have left you if I had had the slightest belief that there was any hope for us," she says softly.

He lowers his head, more aware than ever before of just how he has ruined things between them.

"My powers are very important to me, but not for their own sake," he says quietly, miserably, at least giving her the explanation he should have offered her years ago. It might give her... something, to know why he was so desperate to hold on to his power back then... why he still is. "Well, not only for their own sake."

The Dark One grimaces, finding it very difficult even now to be entirely honest with her.

"Why else are they important?" she asks, looking intently at him.

"My son," he says, telling her what he has never told anyone else. "He may still be alive, in another world. For a long time, I've been... I'm trying to find a way to him. With my powers, it's near impossible as it is. Without them... I wouldn't have a chance."

"I'm so sorry," she says, stepping towards him and taking his hands in her own.

"Me too," he mutters, looking down at their joined hands. Telling her the truth after all is too little and too late, but at least one regret isn't weighing as heavily on him as it used to. He's not magically getting her back, but the way they are touching now is worthwhile in its own right.

"And here we are," she sighs, squeezing his hands lightly.

"Here we are," he echoes, not allowing himself to linger on the cruelty of it all, not while she's still in front of him and looks at him with those eyes that reach into his very soul.

"You have changed," she says quietly, brushing her fingers against the back of his hand, the feeling of it taking his breath away, as they touch for the first time since he sent her away.

"You haven't changed at all. You've just become more of what you already were. Yet stronger. Yet braver. Kinder than all the kings and lords in the realm combined, and probably wiser too. And even more beautiful than you were before. You'll be a truly wonderful mother."

His gaze drifts to her tummy, swollen with her child. Standing there together in the quiet night, it's so very easy – so very tempting – to pretend that the child is his as well.

"Do you want to feel?"

She has guided his right hand towards her belly before he understands what she's talking about. Realization dawns quickly after all when his fingers are mere inches away from her unborn child. He nods in breathless anticipation, wanting to connect with her child as much as she will let him.

Nothing could have prepared him for touching a pregnant woman's belly for the first time. The fact that this is _Belle_ obviously makes it all the more mind-blowing.

Rumplestiltskin can _feel_ the child, right along with his True Love's warmth and softness, so very safe and content and thoroughly cherished. The two of them gasp in unison when there's movement inside of her, as this is what it must feel like when a child – _Belle's_ child – kicks in its mother's womb.

He firmly dismisses the thought of how cruel it is that he has never felt his own child like this, but does feel this miracle of the child of his True Love and another man.

Her hand covers his, guiding him over her stomach, placing his hand where he can best sense the movements. In that moment, it doesn't matter that he isn't the actual father, because _he_ is the one she encourages to touch her like this, _he_ is the one who can feel every shift and kick of the child.

Rumplestiltskin closes his eyes, committing the smallest of details to memory to the best of his considerable capabilities. Wordlessly, he promises Belle's child to be there for him or her when they may need him, to protect them and cherish them if the need should ever arise.

And then he _sees,_ a vision appearing in his mind's eye without warning. There's a baby boy, being held securely in Belle's arms, her husband right behind them, lovingly pulling both of them against his chest. There are more flashes of the boy growing up happily with both his parents... and the Dark One himself is there as well, almost hidden in the background but very much _there_ , among the family, as if he is part of it.

Rumplestiltskin closes his eyes tightly, struggling to see as much as he can of what might be or what might not be a prophecy. How the boy becomes a man, a _prince_ , honorable and beloved by his people, his lands expanding and thriving.

"Rumple?" His True Love's voice brings him fully back to the present. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," he replies quickly.

He has learned the hard way that prophecies often aren't what they appear to be, that the glimpse he just got of the future needn't come true after all. Still, he has also learned that such visions are quite accurate after all if no conscious effort is made to actually make them come true.

So he says nothing, just smiles at her as his hand and eyes remain focused on her belly, wanting to remain connected to her son like this for as long as he can.

"It will be fine, dearest. It think it will be more than fine."

Judging from the way she squeezes his hand and looks at him with a happy smile, she is to some extent aware of what just happened.

"So what have you been doing in the past years?" she asks, to his delight not letting go of his hand, keeping it right where it is on her belly.

"More of the same," he shrugs, his life hardly having changed at all, except for the most important part of it, her absence in his existence often making it feel as if he might not be living anymore at all. "I've made some progress on finding a way back to my son, but as always, that progress is slow."

"I'm very sorry to hear that," she says, her sympathy making his frustration somewhat less unbearable. "I just... I wish I had known before. How you need your powers so much. Why you cared about them more than you did for me. I didn't know that I was basically asking you to choose between me and your son. I didn't know it, but I asked you to make that choice anyway."

"I should have told you," he says, his eyes downcast. "I should have told you everything before it was too late."

"I imagined what it would be like, you know," she says, tightening her hold on his hand, as if she were able to get back to the past that way, to undo the monumental mistake he made back then. "Going back to you. _Living_ with you, just like we were before, only... more. I knew you loved me, but I also thought that it wouldn't be enough. That you were too afraid to let me in, to _love_ me. I thought about coming back, Rumple. I almost did. But I was convinced that it would only lead to more misery."

Tears are pooling in his eyes, both because of the shock of hearing that she has hoped for the same as him all this time, and also because those dreams never came true because of his cowardice.

"I missed you so much," he mumbles, even more aware that none of this would have happened if he had been able to trust her sooner, if he hadn't let centuries of disappointment get the better of him, at that turning point with his True Love.

"I missed you too, Rumple. I could barely bear it."

There are tears in her eyes as well and he sinks to his knees in front of her, his head bowed, silently begging for forgiveness for his foolishness, for being not nearly as brave as she is.

He buries his face against her swollen belly, almost wishing that _he_ were the child in there, innocent and safe, unblemished, a whole, unwritten life in front of him, his arrival eagerly anticipated by parents who would always be there for him, who would raise him like his own parents never had.

Belle's hands are in his hair, caressing him in a manner that could almost be considered motherly until she reaches for the back of his neck as well, scratching him gently in a way that draws far from innocent noises from him.

He's crying in earnest at the knowledge that their relationship could have been so much more than a single, desperate meeting in the dark of night, in a remote corner of the gardens of her castle.

Belle just soothes him, like she always has, like she always _would have_ if only he hadn't been so stupid.

"I told myself that there was no way we could have been happy together, even if you hadn't sent me away." Her words are calm, thorough, but the tremor in her voice underscores that this is as difficult to her as it is to him. "I don't know whether it's true, or whether it's something I remind myself of only because being away from you would be unbearable otherwise. But now I'm not so sure anymore."

He looks up in response, two pairs of teary eyes meeting. No matter how convinced he is that there is no hope for them, that there's no way that they can be together after all, one way or another, he holds his breath in anticipation, in the hope of a happily ever after of sorts being possible after all.

It's probably the knowledge that he has ruined too much already that has him finding courage he didn't know he had. Rumplestiltskin takes one of her hands in his own and presses his lips against her knuckles. He lingers far longer than is proper and his hot tears drop onto her flawless kin, but he knows that she has long since accepted that he is no knight in shining armor.

"I love you, Belle," he whispers against her skin. It's both mortifying and liberating to finally tell her of his true feelings for her, to say the three words that have lived between them all this time but that never have been spoken. If anything, he has partly corrected this mistake, never mind that it's too little and too late.

"I love you too, Rumplestiltskin."

He already knew that she returned his feelings, if only because their True Love's kiss worked and thus abruptly ended their highly unlikely romance. But nothing could have prepared him for the awe and relief that rush through him upon actually hearing her say that she loves him – that she still does.

"I won't leave my husband, my child, my father or my people."

The softly but decisively spoken words aren't the splash of cold water in the face he expected them to be. Instead, Rumplestiltskin looks up at her questioningly, wondering why she's telling him what he already knows, what she's been in a way telling him all along... what she _will_ perhaps do.

"I know," he acknowledges carefully, no matter how much it hurts to admit that he has had his chance with her, to have a happy life together – and that he has singlehandedly utterly ruined that chance.

"But Jonathan and I have an... understanding."

Belle teases the nape of his neck with her nails, sometimes lightly pulling at his hair in a way that leaves him shuddering, but it couldn't be easier to focus on her words at the same time now that she looks down meaningfully to where he's still kneeling at her feet.

"He knows what you mean to me... that you're my True Love. We agreed that if there was a way to have you back in my life, he will support our continued relationship, as long as it doesn't interfere with the public image of Jonathan and I. You are not to be seen here, not to be heard, but..."

His heart is racing in a way he thought it couldn't now that he's the Dark One, his mouth falling open when it dawns on him what she seems to be telling him.

"What are you saying?!" he rasps, needing to hear her explicitly say what she means before he'll allow hope into his heart again.

"You can't be my husband," she says, her hands in his hair stilling, "no one can know if we meet. We can't _kiss,_ I suppose, as long as you insist on holding on to your power. But as long as you were willing to be my secret friend, my... my _lover_ , I would like that. I would like that very much."

This is exactly the kind of chance he has been hoping for all along, even – _especially –_ when he told himself that he was better off without the woman who holds such power over him... the woman he _loves._ But now that she tells him in no uncertain terms that they can, in a way, be together after all... the Dark One doesn't allow himself to believe it.

"But what about your dear _husband?"_ he mutters, unable to entirely let go of his jealousy and suspicion. "Surely he doesn't agree to _sharing._ "

"Jonathan and I extend the same courtesy to each other, of course," she says as calmly as she has been the whole time, looking down on him like she's a goddess of sorts and he the peasant in desperate need of salvation, leaving no place whatsoever to hide.

"Isn't it enough for him to have one incredible woman in his bed?" he murmurs weakly, both the parts of him that have and haven't been devoured by darkness telling him that her offer can't possibly be real.

After all, Belle has a good husband, a _family_ , has achieved so many of her goals without him... she can't possibly want _him_ in her life at all, not with him being the way he is... not with the way he treated her when he was convinced that she had betrayed him. Indeed, even this very evening she told him that there was no place for him in her life.

"Jonathan would spend his life with the blacksmith, if only he could. As it is, the two of them have the same kind of secret relationship that I would like you and I to have as well."

As quickly as it erupted, the assumption that her husband is betraying her disappears when it dawns on Rumplestiltskin that, in a way, the marriage between his True Love and the other man has been a farce from the very beginning.

"But why would you want me back?" he says, looking back up at her and tightening his hold on her waist despite himself. "You said yourself earlier tonight that you didn't want me in your life. What has changed?"

" _You_ have changed," she says, reaching for him again. His eyes close on their own accord and he sighs happily when she lovingly caresses his cheek. "When you threw me out I was convinced that you would never choose me, that your power would always be more important... but I kept hoping. Until you came to my court again and again without acknowledging me, in fact pretending that you weren't there at all."

He sighs deeply when he realizes yet more clearly how _foolish_ he has been, how much time he has wasted by being so intent on believing the worst.

"But now that we're talking like this and that you reacted to Jonathan a lot better than I thought you would... I believe that you have changed after all, Rumplestiltskin."

She smiles a little, twining her hands in his hair to caress his scalp as well as the nape of his neck, leaving him all but purring like an utterly content cat.

"I was afraid to love the man you once were," she whispers, leaning over with some difficulty to press her lips against his forehead for a few blissful seconds. "I'm not afraid to love _you_."

He smiles back at her, a genuine, _happy_ smile as he trembles in joy at the implication that their love isn't as doomed as he was convinced it was. If anything, the arrangement which she is suggesting now is _perfect_ , perhaps yet better than what they had when she still was his maid in the Dark Castle: unlike then, he won't be permanently distracted by trying to find a way back to the world without magic, back to his boy.

"I'm not afraid to love you any longer either, sweetheart," he murmurs, lightly caressing her sides as he remains on his knees in front of her, never having felt more strongly that that is exactly where he belongs – where he wants to be. "I can't give up my powers, not until I have found a way back to my son, but..."

"I know that... I accept that. That being said, would what I just suggested be acceptable to you? To visit me here, and perhaps invite me back to the Dark Castle every once in a while? I can never be at your side for more than a few hours or for the course of one night. Like I said before, no-one can ever _know_ , but..."

"Yes... _yes_ ," he rasps.

Wholeheartedly accepting the offer she's making, wanting to make as clear to her as possible that he's not going to foolishly reject her love a second time, Rumplestiltskin buries his face more firmly against her stomach, breathing in her scent as the fabric of her dress absorbs the tears welling in his eyes once more.

It also brings him closer to her child than he has been before, and it doesn't matter anymore that he isn't the father of the boy. With his face pressed against the swell of his True Love's belly, he sees the unborn child playing with their younger sibling, a beautiful girl with Belle's eyes and his sharp nose...

Rumplestiltskin keeps his face hidden in her dress for just a while longer, this time not just because he enjoys being there so very much, but because he needs to compose himself before facing her again; there's no way she can know about this – not yet, anyway, not until such a child were actually to be in their lives.

"I love you, Belle," he whispers.

This time, the words are much more than an almost sullen acknowledgment.

"I love you too, Rumplestiltskin," she breathes, as happily as he did himself. "Now get up, you impossible man."

He does exactly that, half driven by his desire to properly embrace her and half by her hands grasping his coat, pulling him back to his feet.

"Dance with me," she whispers hopefully.

Nodding firmly since he finds himself incapable of verbally replying, he fully intends to do just that. But the truth is that he would barely know how to engage her in a dance in regular circumstances, let alone now that she's shaped somewhat differently than he was used to.

But as she does so very often, Belle provides a solution before he has even been able to formulate the impossibilities he foresees. She turns herself around and moves backwards into his arms, pressing her back against his front so her belly doesn't prevent them from actually getting near enough to one another to be able to dance in the first place.

Rumplestiltskin can't help but groan when his True Love is in his arms again, just like that, and more intimately than she has ever been before. He can _feel_ her, so much of her, and he knows that she can feel just as much of him. And yet she is here, pulling his arms around her.

It's a bit of a disappointment that he can't see her beautiful face any longer in this position, but their embrace feels perfect regardless when he finds that he can rest his chin on her shoulder and press his own face against the warmth and softness of her neck.

"I love you so much," he whispers. He will never be able to tell her that often enough, but he might as well try.

"Not as much as I love you," she murmurs happily.

He wants to object, her loving and slightly teasing tone only registering when she squeezes his hand where it rests on her side.

Belle begins to sway slightly on the spot as if moving to an inaudible rhythm. The sorcerer understands what she's doing only when he recalls that she asked him to dance with her only a moment ago. He happily obliges, moving along with her to music only they can hear.

It would be easy enough to create actual instruments and magical musicians with a mere snap of his fingers, or even make the music from the castle audible to them. But he has the feeling that she would approve of his reliance on magic yet less than she did before. Besides, it's lovely enough as it is just to move with her like this, especially when she starts to hum a sweet tune and he joins her almost immediately.

Although he has never been able to imagine anything like this, the happiness he finds with Belle in his arms is exactly the sort of thing he expected to be ripped away from him at any moment if he were to have it. It's difficult enough to believe that this is real, that she truly wants him back in her life, let alone allow himself to think that this will _last,_ but Rumpelstiltskin finds true peace as they slowly sway in the moonlit clearing.

No matter how wonderful it is simply to hold his True Love in his arms, he soon finds that he has trouble keeping his hands still. When she sighs happily in approval, he begins to stroke her sides and, eventually, caress her belly as carefully as he can.

When her hands come to rest on top of his and she leans yet further back against him, he gives in to the urge to brush his lips against the flawless skin of her neck. The softness of it and the way she moans slightly in response persuade him that she would like more of this as much as he does himself.

Her acceptance making him feel braver than he thought he could be, Rumplestiltskin presses his lips more firmly against her neck for an actual kiss.

" _Yes_ ," she sighs, the sound causing him to pull her more firmly against him in response.

Ignoring the awareness that the two of them could have had this all along if only he hadn't been so _stupid_ when he threw her out of his life a few years ago – and every moment since then, really – he focuses with all his being on the wonderfulness of the present.

His tongue darts out every once in a while, the slightly salty taste of her leaving him groaning. Rather than being disgusted by his reactions to her like he still half expects her to be, Belle responds to him with equal vigor, reaching behind her to get a firm hold on his clothing and the thighs beneath it.

Rumplestiltskin could stay like that forever, but eventually it gets rather cold outside and he feels that she is getting sleepy. It is thus no surprise when she gently steps out of his embrace, although it leaves him feeling bereft regardless.

Belle immediately chases away the cold and loneliness, however, when she turns around to face him and smiles affectionately at him.

"Jonathan won't be back in our chambers before sunrise," she says softly. "Why don't you join me there until then? We can rest and perhaps talk."

He nods eagerly in response, very much aware that she's offering him so much more than a mere place to spend the night and have a conversation or two.

After he has pulled the hood back over his head so he won't be recognized by others, he offers her his arm, almost giddy when she takes it without any hesitancy. When she nods with a smile on her face, they begin the walk which will bring him back into her home – back into her _life._


End file.
